Full Metal Heroine: A Military Space Opera Adventure (Lady Hellgate Book 2)

by Greg Dragon

  “We’re always looking, Petty Officer Riles, but all of our operators are chosen. It isn’t something that you can sign up for. That being said, if you’re serious about Special Forces, you need to do things to get on Captain Retzo Sho’s radar. Try out for BLAST, and if you make it out, then there’s a strong possibility that an ESO recruiter will be calling you. Aside from BLAST, you need to show leadership and grit. That is how you get a high reputation, and that is how you become a Nighthawk.”

  Helga read his face when she mentioned BLAST, which stood for Basic Land and Space Training. It was a program created by the top brass of the Alliance Navy to identify the special individuals that could qualify to become Extraplanetary Spatial Operators (ESO). He balked, as was expected, and it took everything not to smile. She knew that he’d asked, hoping that there was another way in without having to risk his life in the program.

  How could she blame him? BLAST was a nightmare. It was several Vestalian months of courses, obstacles, and tests on survival in just about every environment available to the spacer. This included exposure to spatial conditions, like a ship losing all of its atmosphere, having to simulate escaping a doomed dropship, and surviving the harsh conditions of a rain forest on the planet Arbar.

  Needless to say, many tried out for BLAST but only a small number of men and women made it out to become operators. She didn’t bother to stay for any further questioning, since more than likely it would be things they could learn from any other officer.

  As a Nighthawk she was a celebrity and had to learn how to exist among the rest of the crew. There were fans, and there were the jealous, some having taken BLAST, passed it, and thought that they deserved to be where she was.

  But Helga had qualifications that none of the Rendron homegrown could ever meet. She had been captured by the enemy, assaulted, tortured, and then stuck in an escape pod for several months. She had also fought the Geralos lizards and killed enough of them to make men like Petty Officer Riles stammer.

  Her feats were known across the Alliance, but that didn’t stop ambitious spacemen from assuming that they could have done it too. She had heard the rumblings, but it was to be expected. After all, she had heard the same “big talk” from men when she was just a cadet.

  “There are talkers, and there are doers,” her friend and mentor, Adan Cruser, used to say. “We’re doers, Helga, so let them talk. In the end, people will remember the ones who acted.” Back then, when he used to council her, she had a hard time imagining herself as one of the Rendron’s elite, but here she was, Helga “Hellgate” Ate, and she missed Cruser and all his wisdom.

  There were a few more hails from random Marines, but she pretended not to hear them as she quickened her pace. She was looking for a transport to take her to the fore of the ship where she and her lieutenant, Cilas Mec, were to be given medals by their captain, Retzo Sho.

  A month had passed since returning from their last mission, which cost the lives of Adan Cruser and three of her fellow ESOs. She wished that she could skip it—ceremonies weren’t really her thing—but she had to go, Cilas’s orders, since it was more for the Rendron than for her.

  The ship’s crew was low in morale and it was becoming obvious, so the captain decided that honoring the Nighthawks would reignite the fight in his spacers. They had all come close to death when facing off against a Geralos battleship, and one of the Rendron’s infiltrators had been destroyed.

  Thousands of lives had been lost in the conflict, but the Geralos had been stopped. Helga had been a major part of that victory, both during combat and after. The Marines and spacemen who weren’t ESOs saw just as much combat as they did, but from their vantage point things had seemed hopeless, and it didn’t go away even though they had won.

  Helga stopped by the transport line, which was a thin bit of rail in the center of the passageway. It was the main walkway through the spine of the ship, so it was wide enough to accommodate the vehicle, while leaving enough room for crewmembers to walk about. This walkway also served as a track for the spacers who liked to run and exercise, so it was always a hub of activity no matter the time or situation.

  She heard the squeaking of brakes and looked to her right to see the oblong vessel pulling up to a halt. The doors slid open and several Marines exited. One stopped to salute her, and she returned it sharply before giving him a nod.

  She still wasn’t used to this new level of respect, but it was a lot better than being pushed around and ignored. It wasn’t lack of confidence that made it hard to accept, but lack of trust—for the spacers on a ship where she had only known spite, malice, and discrimination.

  Helga stepped inside the transport and looked to the rear for a seat that would allow her to sit quietly and be as incognito as possible. But there were spacers everywhere, all headed to the ceremony, and she was met with applause when they recognized who she was.

  “Thype me,” she whispered under her breath. “Is this how it’s going to be from now on?” She couldn’t believe that she was missing her old life when she was just another wannabe, hustling along to her missions.

  Helga tipped her hat politely and waded through the spacers to find the rear, where a young Marine quickly gave up his seat. “No, sit,” she whispered, and touched his shoulder, choosing to stand and look out at the passageway. From inside the transport the ship seemed massive, which made sense considering the Rendron’s size, but it seemed bigger now for some reason.

  Nine of her seventeen years had been spent on the Rendron, reading, studying, training, and fighting. It had been nine years of “proving herself” to instructors and peers who saw her as little more than a half-alien freak and outcast. Nine years inside of this massive starship built exclusively for war, preparing for an enemy whose reality was more frightening than any story she had been told before facing them.

  She hadn’t noticed the Rendron even when it was all she knew, but now that she had been out there, she saw it for everything that it was. She didn’t know how to feel about it. She felt, lost—no, she felt, trapped. There was a fight out there that she was supposed to be in, and here she was riding a train to receive an award that she did not want.

  What are we doing? she thought, jabbing the glass lightly with her gloved fist. What am I doing?

  The transport stopped at the fore of the Rendron, near the hangar that was her destination. She saw familiar faces huddled near a bench, laughing as if there were no worries in the galaxy. When she stepped off to approach them, one of the women came forward.

  It was Lieutenant Joy Valance, flight commander of the Revenants, an elite squadron of fighters that were once stationed on the infiltrator, Inginus. She was a tall glass of pure human energy, and everything Helga wished she could be socially.

  They had started out as rivals, though Joy was a flight leader back when Helga was still figuring out how to fit into her armor. After flying together, the two women had developed a bond that they couldn’t explain. Their rivalry was suffocated and replaced with something akin to kinship.

  “Look at you all edges and shiny buttons,” Joy said, her infectious smile gleaming, forcing Helga’s melancholy mood to dissolve. It was classic Joy charm, impossible to avoid, and Helga accepted her hug before following her over to where the others were huddled.

  “No Cilas?” Helga said, surprised that the lieutenant wasn’t with Joy. The two were practically inseparable, especially now that things had quieted down between the Alliance and the Geralos.

  “He’s here, somewhere,” Joy said, winking. “You know he can’t walk three steps without a cadet quizzing him about the Nighthawks.”

  “Oh, trust me, I know,” Helga said, rolling her eyes for emphasis, which caused one of the Revenants to laugh, taking her by surprise. “Oops, hi, Millicent,” she said to the slender woman, who had become Joy’s second in command over the last month or so.

  She embraced her and held it. Millicent had lost family in the fight with the Geralos, and Helga
wanted her to know that she remembered.

  “You look so official, Ate,” Millicent said, stepping back to admire her before reaching up to adjust her collar. “It suits you more than you know. I can see you as a commander of your own infiltrator.”

  “Oh, stop,” Helga said, blushing, but then Joy stepped forward to get her attention.

  “You do look good, Ate,” Joy said. “One of the rare times I’ve seen you sober.” Helga glared at her, then, trying to assess whether she was joking, but then Joy’s lips turned up into a smirk, and the Nighthawk exhaled, relieved. She had been worrying about her drinking, and Joy more than anyone else would know if she was overdoing it.

  “You’re one to talk, Lieutenant. The very first day I met you we shared a pint … or several.”

  The two women regarded one another for a bit, and then they started laughing. Drinking had been the glue to their bond, and the memories, therapy, and honesty that came from the bottle were always a welcome break from the otherwise routine life of the Navy.

  Joy ranked her and was older, but they had a lot in common, especially drinking. She stepped in close to Helga, removed her hat and then stepped back to analyze her.

  “This hat adds ten years to you somehow. It’s quite odd. Just now, when you walked up, I saw a Rendron officer on approach, possibly looking to give me the business. Now I see a young woman.” She reached forward and brushed at Helga’s hair slightly. “She’s tough, you can see that from those dark Casanian eyes. She’s got attitude—I can see you setting that pouty mouth of yours to tell me off—and she’s got experience.” She took Helga’s face in her hands and used her thumbs to massage her temples. “Still not sleeping, eh?”

  “I sleep, just not a lot,” Helga said, taking back her hat and pulling it on. “You’re sweet, in your own way, all caring and whatnot. So when’s the marriage? Let’s talk about that, Ace. You and the lieutenant are getting pretty serious—“

  “Nice try at changing the subject, cruta. None of that schtill is any of your business. Marriage,” she scoffed. “As if you Nighthawks could stay put long enough to brooch any form of real commitment. Inginus is being rebuilt, and soon we will have a new commander at the helm, and my stay here on the Rendron will be over. What do you think happens then?”

  “I’m sorry, Joy.”

  “Don’t be sorry. I knew what I signed up for, and I’m a big girl. Now, as to this promotion—”

  “It’s not a promotion.”

  “You sure?” Joy said, and Helga fanned her off. “Ate, I’m being serious. Not everyone gets to be formally thanked by Captain Retzo Sho. This isn’t a rank up or more power, but it shows the ship that you’re favored. It’s a big thyping deal, don’t you know?”

  Helga thought about the captain, and how high he stood in the minds of the crew, and she realized that Joy was right.

  “Never thought about it that way. He’s showing the Rendron his gratitude by singling us out. He could have just honored the Nighthawks formally, but he’s doing it for the lieutenant and me. Still, I don’t want the captain to promote me just because of some successful mission. I made it off Dyn, and that I’m proud of, but I don’t think it warrants a promotion.”

  Joy took Helga’s hand and led her through an adjacent passageway, which opened up to an observatory with massive bay windows on the starboard bulkhead.

  As a child, Helga would sneak into this compartment to spend hours staring out at the stars. Now the only view was the starship, Aqnaqak, and the engineers on their tethers, doing repairs to both of the ships. Beyond it was the planet, Meluvia, which took up every inch of the view.

  It was a spectacular sight, greens and blues obscured by clouds, and silhouettes of transport ships making their rounds between the two vessels. The observatory was designed for meetings, typically between the captain and important guests, but Retzo Sho preferred to bring visitors to his cabin and had instructed his pilots to use the observatory for briefs.

  Helga knew the space well, it was her favorite compartment on the ship. It was a sizable space, large enough for over a hundred pilots, but someone had brought in chairs to prepare for this ceremony and lined them up opposite the windows.

  “Good luck,” Joy whispered as she left Helga’s side to take a seat in the front. Already seated were several older ranks who had either fought alongside Cilas at some point in his career or trained him back when he was a cadet.

  Helga scanned their faces intently, recognizing some, and noticing the handful that were there for her as well. Joy sat next to Loray Qu, Helga’s old cadet commander, whose handsome face beamed with pride when her eyes met the Nighthawk’s.

  Ina Reysor was present as well, a Meluvian officer they had rescued on their last mission. She too had become a friend, though she hadn’t seen her since the excitement of the days following their last mission. Three friends for me, Helga thought, feeling inadequate and a bit like a fraud. Who was she to be honored with Cilas Mec, the decorated Nighthawk who was already a legend?

  The seats before her were for friends and family, and out of the twenty, five had been reserved for her. One of those seats was meant for her twin, her estranged brother, Rolph, who she hadn’t seen in several years. She had held out hope that he could be found, and they would be reunited on this day. From what Cilas had told her, there had been a real effort to find him, led by the communications officer, Genevieve Aria.

  She tried not to choke up. He would have made this ridiculous show mean something. But all she had were these new friends, and her old cadet commander who always had her back. The second empty seat was meant for Brise Sol, her fellow Nighthawk who had resigned after Dyn. She knew that he couldn’t attend, but she had invited him anyway, and he had replied, expressing how happy he was for her getting this day.

  Helga took her place next to Cilas, who gave her a warm smile, and she returned it before turning to face her supporters. It was an impressive ceremony, which would be played across every vid screen on the ship.

  There was a shout and all heads turned as two master-at-arms announced the arrival of the captain, who walked into the compartment bordered by thirty Marines. The uniformed men and women marched in to take a position behind the two Nighthawks, forming two rows, becoming a symbolic wall.

  Captain Retzo Sho waited for them to finish lining up and then he walked forward to the center of the compartment. He was tall and handsome in his uniform, his jet-black hair still thick and healthy, which showed that even age was hesitant to cross him.

  Helga chanced a glance at him and when their eyes met, he gave her a friendly smile. Fire rushed up her throat and she found herself flushed. Retzo Sho was an Alliance hero, and an extremely good-looking man. Helga forced her eyes forward and placed her hands behind her back where her fingers nervously fidgeted.

  When Retzo took the center of the room, everyone stood up and saluted in unison, slamming fists into chests and bowing their heads as was their way. The captain waited for them to finish, watching them intently as they retook their seats. He was a serious man who commanded respect, but this wasn’t hard since the Rendron loved him.

  “Master Chief Cage Hem,” he stated loudly, naming the first of the fallen Nighthawks. “Chief Adan Cruser, Chief Casein Varnes …” He paused and scanned the people seated, and then turned to look at the Marines behind him still standing at attention. When he seemed satisfied with their reactions, he continued naming the other Nighthawks. “Horne Wyatt, and Special Agent, Lamia Brafa. These are men who gave their lives in an effort to rescue refugees from the moon of Dyn.”

  He spoke at length about the fallen, not just the Nighthawks, but every service member that had been killed. He spoke about the Rendron, and the greater mission, which was the defeat of the Geralos and the reclamation of their home world, Vestalia.

  For ten minutes he spoke on these things, his commanding voice the only sound inside of that vacuous space. There were barely fifty of them inside of there, but his v
oice and the video feed of the awards would be on every screen throughout the starship. Retzo knew this, so he spoke on things like loyalty and duty, two traits that had been violated by men he’d put in power.

  Everyone could hear the pain in his voice when he related the incident on the Inginus, where Cilas Mec had been forced to relieve a decorated officer of his command. He spoke on Dyn, the moon where they lost the majority of the Nighthawks, and then he turned to face Helga, and spoke on her accomplishments and how happy he was to have her home.

  Hearing her name spoken of with such high praise was surreal enough for Helga, who didn’t know how to receive it. She felt his eyes but she kept staring forward, afraid that she’d fall apart if she dared look at him again.

  She could barely hear what he was saying now as she concentrated on Joy, who held her gaze, smiling, mouthing the words, “you got this.” Then the captain was in front of her, and she couldn’t look away, but she managed to hold it together as he thanked her for everything she had done.

  When he finally pinned the medal on her chest, Helga felt a tremendous weight lifted from her shoulders. She wasn’t sure why it felt like that, and why the award gave her a sense of belonging, but this was the moment that she needed, and she had to admit that it felt good.

  She, Helga Ate, the half-breed outcast, had been given one of the highest awards by Retzo Sho. She thought about her doubters and abusers watching her on the vid, unable to attend and jeer her because they weren’t important enough to be invited. It sharpened her edge, thinking of her childhood, and her eyes found Retzo’s with a fire borne of renewed purpose.

  “Thank you, Captain,” she said, and he stepped back and shook her hand. “I appreciate the honor, and I am ready to return to duty.”

  2

  The music started, low and rumbling, as the eight drummers kept in sync, raising the heartbeats of the crowd. Dancers resplendent in every color of the rainbow twirled, sprinkling water all over the audience. It was a fantastic show, a Rendron opera, and though the troupe was made up of spacers, any outsider would have a difficult time believing these weren’t professionals.